


Adrenaline and other drawbacks

by MoonTearChild



Series: The two sides of comfort [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, I cant believe i made octane cry ;-;, M/M, Mirage's speech impediment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonTearChild/pseuds/MoonTearChild
Summary: Octane's been acting strange recently, distant and quiet. Good thing Mirage is so good with words.





	Adrenaline and other drawbacks

"Babe?"  
Octane looked up from his phone, meeting the eyes of his fellow teammate come partner, who was staring at him expectantly.  
"What is it, mi amor?" He couldn't help his terse tone, even when staring into those puppy dog eyes of his lover. With a sigh, he watches as Mirage's expression turns from one of curiosity to one of hurt, attempting to mask it despite the obvious slump in his shoulders.  
"I just wanted to check on you. You've been pretty preo- prepe- uh," the trickster rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously, "-busy lately." He punctuates his sentence with a bite at his lip, and suddenly he's at a loss for words.  
The silence spreads between them, suffocating the room in a heavy mist which, for the both of them, was unbearable.  
The junkie opens his mouth to speak, but cuts himself off as Mirage does the same. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."  
Octane's eyebrows knit together under his goggles at the tone in the other man's voice, wetting his lips with his tongue from under his mask.  
" 'm fine." He mumbles, internally cursing with an ever growing guilt at the reaction from his partner. They meet eyes despite the barrier, and he studies Mirage through the green tint, kicking his legs back and forth from his place on the counter. Wordlessly, he sets his phone aside.  
"That's… That's good. How's your uh," Mirage's hands fumbled, as if physically searching for the word he couldn't think of. "Thing? Coming along?"  
With every passing second, Octane felt his mood worsen, posture tensing and a frown gracing his lips. Never had he seen the man like this, struggling for words and looking as if he wanted to say so much more than what he was allowing himself to come out with. Feeling his throat close up with emotions he didn't want to feel he nods. Octane opens his mouth, sucks in a breath, and tries again.  
"The show is going good." He wills himself to continue, but nothing comes out.  
"Cool." Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit, Mirage nods, letting his gaze fall to the floor. "I'm glad. I-" sucking in a breath, he nods again. "I'll let you get on with it." Turning on his heel, he begins to head for the door.

Things had been pretty rough recently for the speedster, what with the introduction to his new segment on his stunts as well as the games, he barely had any time outside of it all to relax. It was all piling up, and things just kept going wrong. First the stunts he just couldn't seem to get right no matter how hard he tried, and after that, his performance in the games had been steadily slipping as the weeks went by. Octane had tried to vent his mounting frustrations into his stunts, pulling off more and more dangerous feats as the days went on, until he had managed to damage one of his prosthetics beyond use and now had to be withdrawn from the games altogether until it got fixed.  
But he couldn't just accept that, he had tried to put off telling everyone in order to keep up appearances. What would it matter if his leg was slightly malfunctioning? He had a match to win after all. Until he had dropped, that is.  
Then the metal had snapped, leaving him in the wet dirt of the swamps to be picked off as first blood in what can only be described as his worst performance yet. It had all gotten to be too much and he didn't want to tell Mirage in case that was the final nail in the coffin - that the man would think him weak and leave him to suffer alone. 

Octane's eyes look up from his temporary replacement prosthetic, the faded paint job and scratched up surface making him scowl.  
"Elliott, wait!"  
His entire body felt like it was hit by a live wire, twitching nervously as the trickster turned back around, staring at the junkie with saddened but hopeful eyes. Octane sighs. "Mierda." He curses under his breath, hand picking at the flecks of paint on his leg. When he works up the courage to look back up, he spits out his words before he can choke them back and regret not telling his boyfriend everything that was wrong. "We need to talk." His eyes widen as the infliction of the statement comes across and he finds himself physically flinching, rushing to rectify the situation. "Not like that- I just…" the sigh escapes his lips before he can stop it, and he presses the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I've been such a fuck up lately. And you deserve better. " he's choking up before he can stop it, and Mirage senses it almost immediately, staggering forward to comfort him. 

Octane barely has the fight left in him to protest when Elliott presses himself into the space between the man's thighs, lifting his hands to pull off the speedster's skull cap and tug down the mask around his neck. When those careful fingers settle the goggles onto his forehead, he realises he's crying. Thumbing away the tears from Octane's cheeks, Mirage pulls the junkie closer with his other arm, giving the man plenty time to back up if he felt he had to. The trickster says nothing, instead opting to hold him close and simply listen, and had he been in the right mind, Octane was pretty sure he would have made a joke about how quiet his lover was.  
"Talk to me." Elliott's voice is soft and reassuring, and Octane slumps into his arms, spilling out the events of the last few weeks. About the games, and his stunts. About his prosthetics and his inability to swallow his pride. And Elliott just listens, stroking at the mess of black and green tinted hair at the back of the speedster's skull as Octane mumbled away into his neck, having stopped crying now for the most part.  
"I've been so damn ashamed of it all, amor. I'm supposed to be Octane, Legend, stunt master and daredevil extraordinaire - but I just feel like a fraud." He laughs bitterly. "I mean, what kind of man can't even face his own boyfriend to talk about what's wrong until it nearly costs him his goddamn relationship?" 

He'd been sleeping in his own apartment in the shared building for the last few weeks, barely taking care of himself other than what wouldn't arouse suspicion within the other Legends- especially Ajay - he didn't think he could look her in the eyes after how careless he was with his a part of his own damn body. It just happened to be a bonus that Elliott wasn't there too, as that would have made the situation so much more dire. In honesty, Octane had been hoping that if he hid out enough, his leg would be fixed before anyone missed him and he could act like the whole thing had never happened, as if it was some bad dream, but it hadn't worked out that way.  
His muscles had been itching incessantly since his second day of inactivity, and the old prosthetic was heavy and made movement so much harder, not to mention the dull ache it brought to what was left of his right leg because of the abrupt change. He'd had new prosthetics designed for the games, and going back to his old ones had done nothing but hinder him even more than losing his leg in the first place. 

His rampant thoughts were silenced when Elliott grabbed at his face, holding it between his hands in a firm but comforting grip, as if sensing the building emotions. Even still, Octane was ashamed to look Mirage in the eye, staring off into the space behind him, heart pounding.  
"Hey, look at me." The trickster mumbled, drawing the man's eyes to stare into his own. "Nothing you say or do is going to change anything, okay? I want to be here for you, and I'm not mad." Mirage's thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the junkie's jawbone as he talked, "You don't have to be Octane around me. Be Octavio, be the man I fell in love with." He moves in, pressing his forehead to the other's, noses touching. Octavio feels Elliott's breath ghost across his lips, and nods, lifting a hand to cup the back of his partner's head. "And I'll be Elliott, not Mirage, and I'll comfort you, and do whatever it takes to make you better. If that's what you need." His voice is so quiet now, anyone else wouldn't have been able to hear it, but there, in that moment, it was enough. Shifting slightly, Elliott leans forward, closing the gap between them to press his lips softly against Octavio's, communicating a sweetness tinged with hunger he just barely manages to hold back, and the second the other man begins to lean in, the trickster is pulling away, staring deeply into his eyes. "When you feel you're ready, come home, okay?" He cups at Octavio's chin with his hand, the pad of his thumb ghosting over the metal protruding from just under either side of his bottom lip.  
And Octavio Silva nods.  
"Thank you."


End file.
